What a bunch of boobs
Image: Malia Leinau
Allow me to jump the so-called fourth wall of journalism for a moment to tell you of my first experience with Hooters. Or course, I knew what it was, having heard and read about the famed restaurant/bar since its inception way back in 1983. But I never saw one up close and personal until I covered the Republican National Convention in San Diego during the 1996. Being a young, poor, sunburned freelancer for a left-wing punk fanzine, I didn’t have the proper press credentials to attend the after-parties. But I stood out in the street and watched the middle-aged, paunchy and exceedingly wealthy conventioneers beat the Southern California streets for entertainment after the convention finished for the evening. The majority of them ended up at Hooters.
In the 10 years since that convention, Hooters has gone from a small-time, one-joke operation to a restaurant powerhouse, now ranking 25th in the top 100 national chains as ranked by growth. That’s without mentioning stores abroad, an airline and a casino. Not to say the chain has caught on in Hawai’i, where currently the tight-shirt-tucked-into-short-orange-shorts-over-stripper-hose outfit only resides in one spot: hidden away in the Aloha Tower Marketplace (though another is slated to open on the Big Island in January).
One of the problems with Hooters, even with the newly available franchise opportunities, is that menu items come straight from the corporate office, though the individual locations don’t necessarily comply. (Case in point: though the menu placed in front of you offers Newcastle on draft for $4.75 a pint, the O’ahu location only offers the bottled 12-ounce equivalent–for $5.25.)
Still, considering the modus operandi of the place, it’s not supposed to be about the booze: They only serve high-end champagne along with wine and beer, and the draft beers are poured with so much head that you can’t tell if it’s because the bartender is lousy or if they’re simply going along with the innuendo theme. That only leaves the food, fun and staff, all of which are strictly white-bread.
Why then the success of Hooters? One can only assume it’s a case of marketing–and they’re all about marketing. The waitstaff is encouraged to push gift shop calendars on patrons, most of whom consist of the sideways baseball-cap sporting, oversized-pants wearing, leftovers from the Arsenio Hall Show, barking incessantly at things that are neither funny nor interesting. The girls (and yes, it is all girls. The only male employees to be found were in the kitchen. One can only hope they were barefoot for irony’s sake) who sell the most merchandise each week win the prize of picking their own station for the following.
Obviously though, the marketing works. And if the marketing is what attracted you to the place, then you’ll find exactly what you were expecting. But if you’re looking for a great evening, you might consider setting your sights a little higher than a bustline.
Hooters
Aloha Tower Marketplace, ground level 524-4668, www.hooters.com
Getting In: 12 and over if accompanied by an adult
Dress Code: Just keep it in your pants.
Soundtrack: Rock and pop standards
Sightings: Joe Theisman, Scottie Pippen
Signature Drink: Bud light, which you swallow along with your sense of dignity.



